Another day, and poor Elle is subjected to the best that CNN, The View, and Days of our Lives has to offer. ESPN2 is offering the cheerleading nationals, though! So there's variety! Still, Elle's stimulating tv watching is interrupted by a knock at the door. Aww. Bet she was hoping to see the Fighting Flamingoes take the trophy.

Trask is cleaning the dishes when the knock comes, he looks at Elle, then moves to the door, to look through the peep hole and see who is out there.

Harrrrumph cheerleaders. Just what Elle loves best. Whatever she thinks of her rather limited TV choices, or indeed rather limited freedom period, she offers nothing but an extremely wry glance out of the corner of her eyes when Trask traipses over to the door. The screen continues happily and brightly babbling away.

Presuming Trask lets her inside? Helena comes in, giving him a faint smile and treading forward to note the cheerleading with a wary eye. There's momentary disbelief that Claire was ever one of those creatures. Then, "Elle? I have the healer set up to go, on call for an evening appointment for privacy. But there's something I want to ask you about - it's not a condition or anything, more a concern and you're the best person to consult."

Trask steps aside, letting Helena in, he looks at Elle, gauging her mood, then nods to himself, and returns to the dishes after locking the door behind Helena.

The only thing possibly better than seeing cheerleaders right now? Helena Dean. Elle's expression stays neutral as the younger blonde approaches, though her eyebrows poke upwards into her forehead and her mouth becomes a little thinner, as if pensive. "A concern. Yeah, what is it?"

Helena flops onto one of the adjacent seats and regards Elle plainly. "So when this healer tries to fix you? Let's assume it's working. We have no idea how painful this might be, and the memories you're trying to restore aren't exactly about playing with dollies and jacks. Your ability is lethal if it gets out of control, and I really don't want to thank this guy by burning him to a crisp. You know your power best. How do we address this?"

Trask looks over as Helena gets right to the point, he frowns a little and shrugs, putting the last of the dishes away he pours a couple glasses of lemonade and brings them in, offering them to both ladies.

One corner of Elle's mouth quirks upwards into a minor smirk. "Are you really so scared I'll lose control?" she comments somewhat indifferently, tapping her pointer atop the remote several times to make the volume go down. Blip blip blip. "I have been using it since I was a kid, you know; if I lost it every time I lost my temper, there'd be… nobody left." Her fingertips tap in sequence in an 'around me' sort of indication. She stretches her hand out for one of Trask's lemonade glasses, appreciatively.

"Thanks, Norton." Helena says as she reaches for hers. "I think your pride is less important then the safety of the person who's trying to help you." Helena says plainly. "And I think those memories are bad enough that you shouldn't be blamed if you did actually lose control. I'd rather be safe than sorry, and I'd rather have a means for you to have some control of the situation. Trask can't be of help, if he's in range the healer's ability won't work either. It's not about temper."

Trask gives Elle a little kiss on the cheek, and a supportive squeeze as he hands over the lemonade glass, as Helena collects the other he moves to a recliner with his own glass, and relaxes.

Elle hadn't really been expecting it; and though her gaze as it sweeps over Trask is acquiescent, tinged with something like irony, her attention soon returns to Helena and the issue at hand. "Should've taken a lesson from Bennet when you had the chance," she remarks towards the atmokinetic, lifting her cup to take a sip. The glass is ice-cold beneath her fingertips, and she wraps the end of her sleeve about it in order to comfortably keep holding it. "Though I really wouldn't suggest trying what he did." Or else. "Let me think."

"If that's what you think is best." Helena says, seeming indifferent. She would prefer not to restrain Elle, but she's not going to let the other blonde know that. "If you come up with something better…" she trails off. "Doesn't rubber insulate electricity?"

Trask looks at Elle, "The other option is those darts the Fed's had at Moab. I am not sure how easy that would be to get a hold of…."

"Do you listen? I said no." Elle's eyes take on a frosty glint, and the brief, startled glare that she turns towards Trask is even less happy. She leans forward, placing her lemonade on top of the coffee table, sans coaster. A bead of cool moisture slips down its side. "You're not shooting darts into me; are you insane? Yes, rubber insulates. It'd be a good idea for everyone to wear— rainboots. Or crocks or something." A pause, and her lips quirk again. "Though it might not enough. Enough voltage, and electricity can still leak off your ankles onto the floor." It are a fact.

"No." Helena's almost in unison with Elle at that - she's not going to make anyone undergo having to be drugged that way, not even someone who's more or less a prisoner, even if they're a prisoner with privelege. "Rubber mat for the floor, rainboots…what about thick rubber gloves for your hands? Couldn't hurt, yeah?"

Trask puts up his hands, "I am just brainstorming here, I am not trying to push you into anything. If you say you can handle it, I buy it, doesn't mean that will make Hell or whoever she is going to be bringing in comfortable though, so thats why I am throwing out ideas." He shrugs, "Why not a full rubber suit for the matter, like one of those scuba suits?"

"Gloves I can work with. A rubber suit…" Uh-huh. Okay well it's a better idea than the darts. Elle will give Trask that much. Her forehead slopes, meeting her fingertips. "You're serious, aren't you?" Head still in the same position, expression unchanging, she gestures vaguely and sardonically at the negator. "Look, you guys can trust me. It's not, like, my first day in training. But if you're still so worried, why don't you just have him standing close so he can step in as soon as you see something?" There tends to be a blue warning glow first, before the BOOM.

Helena nods. "Gloves, boots, rubber mat." Helena nods. "I'll let you know when you're off. It'll be late hours, for privacy, so if you get woken up, don't get cranky." She looks over at Trask, and just shakes her head. "It should be very soon. I'll see you guys later." With that, out she goes.

Trask nods and rises, looking at Helena, "Having me standing by was my original idea, but I think this is more about easing thier piece of mind then controlling you…remember that." He turns and heads back into the kitchen, to keep his hands busy and let Elle think things over without him making it worse.

Elle doesn't have a reply when Trask and Helena make their exits, but just mutely presses her lips together, first at the former but then more significantly at the latter's departing back. "…Yeah." With that one word at herself, she takes the remote into hand again, and the volume roars back up. Some people. Why it gotta be her?